Well That Was Embarrassing — by Tim Iverson

One of the reasons the Stoics are attractive to so many is that they appear to be fully human. Marcus Aurelius—the leader of the Roman Empire—struggles to get out of bed. Seneca bemoans his aging body. Epictetus hobbles around on a lame leg. They don’t claim to have extraordinary powers (other than our power of choice). And while we are inspired by their courage and strength, we assume they made blunders just like the rest of us. That’s what humans do. 

My mindful and Stoic practices have helped me avoid many missteps in my daily life, but not all. Once I was on a plane heading back to the Twin Cities, when the flight attendant rolled by with his drink cart. I requested a glass of ginger ale which I promptly knocked over onto my lap. It slowly soaked my shorts, filtering onto the seat below me. I felt like a little kid, settling into a plastic pool in summer. I grabbed a pile of  napkins to dry myself off, but they didn’t help much. My wife and her seatmate—she was across the aisle from me—had some fun at my expense. I felt like a klutz, and settled in for a long, wet ride. 

Embarrassment doesn’t cause major disruptions for most of us but for some, social “blunders” or a minor faux pas can be a source of significant pain. In extreme cases, it can contribute to the development of social anxiety, and a diminished life. (Better to stay home, to avoid an activity, than to risk being a buffoon or looked down on by others.) And avoidance usually makes things worse. Can Stoicism offer any assistance here? I’ll try to answer that question, and pull in wisdom from the ancient Stoics and Cynics, as well as from modern therapy. (While there are differences in nuance between shame and embarrassment, for this article we’ll consider them basically interchangeable terms.)

What is embarrassment? 

According to the popular psychology publication Psychology Today, embarrassment is framed this way: 

“Frequently grouped with shame and guilt, embarrassment is considered a “self-conscious emotion,” and it can have a profoundly negative impact on a person’s thoughts or behavior. The embarrassed individual becomes conscious of a real (or imagined) failure to comply with social norms and fears that others won’t view them as highly as a result. The ensuing embarrassment may be accompanied by feelings of awkwardness, exposure, shame, guilt, or regret.”

Embarrassment can take many forms. Someone can be embarrassed about his  appearance (“I’m having a ‘bad hair day’”), a perceived inadequacy (“I don’t speak well in groups”, “I can only draw stick figures”), something that didn’t go according to plan (“My presentation was a complete bomb”), a poor decision (“I can’t believe I put our sensitive papers in the recycling”—which I recently did). Albert Ellis, the founder of Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy, or REBT, said, “I realised, soon after I started REBT in 1955, that what we call “shame” is the essence of a great deal of our emotional disturbance” (quoted in the blog by Donald Robertson, “Shame-Attacking Exercises”).

It’s one thing to be embarrassed about a mistake in the grocery store, spilling your drink on a plane or stumbling over a word. Everyone does that from time to time, and it doesn’t usually cause great distress. But for some, embarrassment gets exaggerated and becomes an unnecessary source of emotional pain. Things get problematic when we become overly embarrassed over situations like public speaking, dating or social gatherings—especially when it involves meeting people we don’t know. We can become embarrassed about being embarrassed, or start fearing future recurrences of our responses. 

That response can include bodily reactions, like blushing, sweating, nausea and trembling, among others. (As a kid I endured many red—faced moments.) Becoming wary of our reactions can also lead to a hyper-focus on ourselves and worry that others are also noticing our symptoms. Psychologists call this the Spotlight Effect, a bias where we think we’re the center of attention or getting more attention than we are. In my airplane story, how many people on the plane even noticed my dilemma?

Did anyone care that much? The flight attendant had moved down the aisle without skipping a beat. In fact, the brutal truth is that most of the time, most people are thinking of themselves or their own interests. 

A reframe: the upside of embarrassment 

So what’s the solution? Let’s start with some simple reframing (or finding the “other handle” as Epictetus would say.)  If we’re easily embarrassed, the news isn’t all bad. Embarrassment can serve a positive function; the discomfort might prevent us from repeating a certain behavior in the future. Psychologist Ellen Hendriksen frames embarrassment in terms of evolution. She says, in her excellent book How to Be Yourself, “Embarrassment is thought to have evolved as a non-verbal apology and gesture of appeasement—plus it actually fosters trust. People who are more ’embarrassable’ are nicer, more trustworthy, and more generous” (pp. 213-214). 

There might be times when a little embarrassment is appropriate. If I crash my grocery cart into another person because I’m talking on my phone, my embarrassment—and apology—will remind me to be more cautious next time. And others may find my embarrassment endearing. The Cynic philosopher Diogenes once told a young man who was blushing, “Take courage, that’s the hue of virtue.” Embarrassment probably says something good about you: you’re aware of social norms.  

Embarrassment and the dichotomy of control  

Seneca, writing nearly two thousand years ago, offers astonishing insights into human psychology and emotion. In his Moral Letters to Lucilius he gives examples of Romans who suffered from blushing or other bodily reactions. Writing about two of them he says,  

“Pompey had the most sensitive cast of countenance; he always blushed in the presence of a gathering, and especially at a public assembly. Fabianus also, I remember, reddened when he appeared as a witness before the senate; and his embarrassment became him to a remarkable degree.”  (11.4) 

Seneca also remarks that some of these reactions cannot be completely removed, as they represent the power of nature in us. There may be no  ‘fix’ or final cure. He says in the same letter, “Training and experience can never shake off this habit; nature exerts her own power and through such a weakness makes her presence known even to the strongest” (11.2). 

This might seem depressing. But by firmly acknowledging and accepting our body’s reactions, we can go far in managing them and reducing their impact. Hendriksen agrees with Seneca that the goal is not elimination. Of blushing, she writes, “Our goal is to make blushing less of a big deal. Notice I didn’t say our goal was to stop the blushing” (p. 192).

As Stoics, we’re not to get into conflict with our natural responses— they’ve been given to us by our genes and by nature (or Nature for the Stoics). The essence of Stoicism is being honest about what we can—and cannot—do something about (often called the “dichotomy of control”), and to harness our energy for the former.

If there’s anything I’ve learned over the years, it’s that resisting my emotions, including embarrassment, is never a good idea. It only leads to more inner turmoil. Accepting emotions as they are is a wise starting point. 

Where is your attention? 

I’m fortunate to be a healthy person, but I’ve dealt with uncomfortable bodily reactions, especially in social settings or during speaking engagements (like a lot of people!). While I initially wanted to be “rid of” these symptoms, I’ve learned to accept them—and keep going with whatever I’m doing. A breakthrough for me came when I stopped focusing on my symptoms so much, on how I was doing or appearing to others. If I stumble, I stumble, or if my performance is less than perfect, that’s great. My attitude is to do the best job I can, given my body and mind—and be OK with whatever else happens. Since then I’ve noticed how many other people do their thing very “imperfectly” and just keep going. They don’t let it stop them. 

“I do my duty; other things trouble me not,” said Marcus Aurelius. 

Laugh about it 

The article from Psychology Today continues: “One of the best ways to get over embarrassment is to laugh about it. In fact, people who can shrug [and] laugh off an embarrassing moment are generally viewed as more trustworthy, likable, and sociable. Realizing that everyone makes mistakes can help. Gaining some perspective about the real weight of the mistake and how much people actually noticed it is valuable as well.” 

Trip over your tongue—or your shoelaces? Will it matter in a year, or even a day? Did anyone even notice? How long will they care? Why not laugh about it? 

Seeing the humor in life was promoted by Seneca as well. In his essay On Tranquility of Mind, he says: 

“We must therefore school ourselves to regard all commonly held vices as not hateful but ridiculous, and we should imitate Democritus rather than Heraclitus. For whenever these went out in public, the latter used to weep and the former to laugh; the latter thought all our activities sorrows, the former, follies. So we should make light of all things and endure them with tolerance: it is more civilized to make fun of life than to bewail it…”

Seneca, On Tranquility of Mind, 15 

“We’re all bozos on the bus” goes the famous line by Wavy Gravy. Laughing at—and accepting—our foibles, making light of them, may be one of the most important lessons we can learn from the Stoics. 

Focus on service

 We saw how the Spotlight Effect can keep us trapped in a cycle of thinking about ourselves, and thinking that we are the center of attention. The pull of “me” can be very powerful. But the Stoics continually remind us of our place in the social order, and being of service in some way. In a social situation, I might be feeling anxious. But if I keep my focus on service, or the needs of others, I can break the obsession with how I’m doing or appearing to others. 

Say I’m at a party or conference and don’t know many people. I’m feeling a bit of dread. I could remind myself that many people are uncomfortable at parties or social gatherings. Then I could frame it in terms of helping others feel comfortable: asking them questions and listening to them carefully. Learning a little about their lives, or what their interests are. Maybe I then ask some follow up questions—all the while accepting any anxiety or embarrassment I might feel. This might take some practice, but shifting our attention away from ourselves can have a big payoff, for all concerned. 

On anxiety

When Epictetus was addressing the issue of anxiety (using the example of playing an instrument in front of others), he famously said, 

“When I see someone in a state of anxiety, I say, ‘What is it that he wants?’ For unless he wanted something that was not within his power, how could he still be anxious?”

Epictetus, Discourses, 2.13.1

For Epictetus anxiety means we want something. It is fueled by trying too hard to win something not completely “up to us”, i.e., the reactions of others: their applause, their “likes”, their opinions of us. People might like our concert (or small business, clay pots, Instagram page, new hair color) or they might not. All we can do is prepare, and put our best work out there. In the context of our theme, embarrassment, we may be trying to control others’ perception of us, which is nearly impossible. (“People must not think I’m incompetent!”) The Stoics continually remind us to let go of the opinions of others as the motivating force of our actions.

Don’t care: Stoic indifference 

Indifference gets a bad rap in our culture—and yet understood the right way, it’s an important skill to develop for Stoics. In the opening passage of Enchiridion, Epictetus says, 

“Of all existing things some are in our power, and others are not in our power. In our power are thought, impulse, will to get and will to avoid, and, in a word, everything which is our own doing. Things not in our power include the body, property, reputation, office, and, in a word, everything which is not our own doing…..”

Epictetus, Handbook, 1.1 

He continues later in the same passage, “Is it [the event or impression] concerned with what is in our power or with what is not in our power?’ And if it is concerned with what is not in our power, be ready with the answer that it is nothing to you” (emphasis mine).

Notice in his list of things “not in our power” the body comes first, and that would include our involuntary reactions like blushing, sweating, the startle response and more—all things Seneca mentions in his writings. I would also include our “automatic thoughts” in this list. (We don’t control every thought that pops up in our mind.) 

We are then advised to think of these things or events as nothing. In other words, we could say, “So what? So what if I flub up, turn red, go blank for a moment. So what if someone sees my hand shaking?” We can become indifferent to these things, at least in the moment. Later on, with extra training in relaxation, or changes in our attitude, we might even be able to reduce these automatic responses over the long run. But the important thing is to stop caring if they happen—to accept them, and to move on. 

Recently I was discussing this topic with someone who admitted that she had trouble with frequent blushing, especially in business settings. She said they stopped being a problem when she stopped caring about them, and stopped giving them attention. 

“To live a good life: We have the potential for it. If we can learn to be indifferent to what makes no difference…”

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 11.16

Attacking shame, ancient and modern  

The ancient Greek Cynics were famous for the way they flouted social convention and were known for their devotion to the concept of shamelessness (anaideia). They knew that a life lived “according to nature” meant that we would sometimes do things that other people looked down on. They were nicknamed “dogs” (the root meaning of the word “cynic”), perhaps because they tried to emulate the naturalness and lack of shame found in most dogs. The Stoics, especially Epictetus, were greatly influenced by their ideas. 

Zeno (the founder of Stoicism, circa 300 BC) began his formal studies under the Cynic philosopher Crates. Crates noticed that Zeno was too modest—perhaps observing the way he carried himself in society—and needed a concrete lesson in the art of shamelessness. He instructed him to carry a bowl of lentil soup through the Kerameikos, a crowded area of Athens. When he saw that Zeno was hiding the soup under his robe, probably from embarrassment, he took his stick and smashed it. The soup spilled all over Zeno’s legs. As he darted away, Crates yelled, “Why run away, my little Phonecian? Nothing terrible has happened to you.” 

Albert Ellis (who we met earlier) was greatly influenced by ancient philosophy. He developed his famous “shame attacking” exercises for his psychotherapy clients in the 1950s. They sound like they’re straight from the Cynic playbook. Donald Robertson quotes Ellis again: 

“Here clients deliberately seek to act ‘shamefully’ in public in order to accept themselves and to tolerate the ensuing discomfort. Since clients do best to harm neither themselves nor other people, minor infractions of social rules often serve as suitable shame-attacking exercises (e.g., calling out the time in a crowded department store, wearing bizarre clothes designed to attract public attention, and going into a hardware store and asking the clerks whether they sell tobacco).”

Dryden & Ellis, 2001, p. 329, quoted in Donald Robertson’s blog, Shame-Attacking Exercises)

Therapist Elissa Habinsky explains more about the purpose of “shame attacking”:

 “In general, shame attack assignments are valuable as they challenge our desire to conform to social standards, as well as our need for the approval of others. Often when others express their disapproval of our behavior, we engage in catastrophic thinking, and ultimately question our self-worth. Thus, shame attacks help us discriminate between our engaging in a specific behavior, and our worth as a human being.”

She goes on to describe her own “shame attack” exercise, sending an email with errors in it, to confront her own fears of being thought of as an “unintelligent” individual. She offers further suggestions for doing a shame attack: 

1.  Tie a long red ribbon around a banana and “walk” it down a busy street
2.  Ride a crowded elevator standing backward (facing the rear)
3.  Yell out five successive stops in the subway or on the bus
4.  Find a restaurant that offers “two eggs any style” and ask your waiter for one fried and one scrambled 

(from “Shame attacks”, albertellis.org)

The “catastrophic” thinking that Habinsky mentions can take the form, wouldn’t it be terrible if… For example, “wouldn’t it be terrible if people looked down on me, or thought poorly of me?” “I would die if people were staring at me” or something similar, thoughts which are rarely, if ever, true. Shame attacks take embarrassment head-on by designing actions which are bound to produce discomfort. 

Most of us won’t end up taking a banana for a walk, or yelling out things on a bus. As Stoics, we should balance this approach with our commitment to social harmony and virtue, and use these strategies wisely. In an age when many are flouting social norms for attention on social media, the shame attack might have to be reconsidered. 

But we can design our own exercises, depending on our unique situation. Maybe I strike up a conversation with a stranger on a train, or try out a silly walk with my children. Maybe I say yes to the Halloween party at work, and wear a crazy costume. The point is to act against our anxiety. Secrets of the Stoics author Jason Hemlock addresses this issue. In a section entitled “Make a fool out of yourself,”  he says, “If you need the approval of others, find ways of making a fool of yourself. Really put yourself in your worst nightmare to remove the hold it has over you” (Secrets of the Stoics, p. 55). 

Placing ourselves in our “worst nightmare” may be a bit strong, and we might have to work up to that, but his point is well taken. We have to find the courage to act against our fears. 

Epictetus advises a similar direct attack on our sense of embarrassment. In his Handbook (13), he says: 

 “If you want to make progress, put up with being thought foolish and silly with regard to external things, and don’t even wish to give the impression of knowing anything about them; and if some people come to think that you’re somebody of note, regard yourself with distrust.” 

Finally, the ultimate “shame attacking” strategy may be the Stoic focus on virtue. If I “mess up” or embarrass myself, that’s done. Why wallow in it? I can only manage the next moment, the next move. That’s in my control. 

How paying attention can help

Certainly by being more mindful—slowing down, paying attention to what we’re doing—we can reduce the amount of embarrassment (or real accidents) we have to deal with in the first place. If I’m paying attention at the grocery store, I’ll bump into fewer carts. If I watch where I’m walking, I won’t fall onto the rocks below me (a feat I observed in a park). If I watch what I’m saying, I’ll say fewer stupid things. And by being aware that I have only partial control over my body’s responses, I’ll eliminate much frustration and worry. I can observe my “cringeworthy” moment and let it go. 

Conclusion

Podcaster and retired Navy Seal Jocko Willink is known for his simple response to adversity: Good. No matter what happens, we can choose to see the benefits or find a way to be grateful. We can look for the  lesson. We get to decide what every event means. 

Screw up something? Good—I can join the human race, and have compassion for myself 

Spill on myself in an airplane? Good—I can practice patience and coping with adversity 

Or as an ancient Stoic emperor put it in his journal (Meditations, 4.26), 

Something happens to you. Good. It was meant for you by nature, woven into the pattern from the beginning. 

 

About the author

Tim Iverson is an organizer for the Minnesota Stoics, and a retired educator. He is the author of two books, Calm and Curious and Advice for Every Hour. He lives in Minnesota with his wife Ann and dog Buddy.